


Fever Dreams

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-16
Updated: 2003-02-16
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Sometimes River gets to be the strong one.





	Fever Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

Fever Dreams

## Fever Dreams

### by Nicole Clevenger

Fever Dreams  
Nicole Clevenger (c) December 2002 

Joss Whedon needs a shrine. A big, shiny, heavy shrine just for him. _Firefly_ and its wonderfully multi-dimensional characters spring from and belong to the shrine-worthy Joss. Besides spoilers for the episode "Objects in Space," this little piece also contains hints of things that might be disturbing to the average bear. Simon and River in the aftermath. 

* * *

Simon opens his eyes to find her face only inches away. 

Dark eyes set against skin so pale it looks to be glowing in the darkness. Her hair escapes from its place behind her ear to hang down and tickle his nose. He is confused, waking like this; for a moment he thinks himself back in his bed at home, the one he used as a child. 

He brushes her hair away with the back of his hand. "River... what...?" 

He blinks slowly, stupidly. He can't seem to gather his thoughts. When he tries to grab hold of one, it slips sideways out of reach. Maybe this is how his sister feels. The thought strikes him in that moment as so horribly depressing that he actually feels tears begin to well in his eyes. Quickly he dashes them away, unable to explain their sudden presence. 

His sister hasn't moved. 

A hint of fear slices through the fuzziness and he struggles to sit up. "What's going on?" He doesn't make it very far, discovering almost immediately that his head has become too heavy to lift. Simon swallows, trying to force some moisture into his parched and scratched throat. "Did something happen?" 

It is only when she places a smooth cool hand on his forehead that he realizes just how warm the room is. His eyelids fall closed, his entire focus becoming that featherlight touch. It works for a moment, maybe two. Then his body returns to clamor for his attention, piece by piece. He can't remember feeling this badly since... Well. Doesn't matter anyway. What matters now, he imagines, is how he got this way. And maybe why River is in his quarters, though he's not sure that matters so much. Her small hand feels so very good against his skin. If he closes his eyes again, he can almost convince himself he _is_ home. 

Simon shifts and a burst of pain blossoms outward from his thigh. He gasps, remembering again the shock of feeling that bullet penetrate his leg. He'd been - 

"- Shot," River says, her look solemn. "You went against the plan and now the bugs have you. Gnawing away, in blood that flows like fire..." 

  * shot. A moment of weary focus, his clinical mind adding up the symptoms and translating her words. Despite the antibiotics, the wound has become infected. Simon sighs, licks his dry lips. "Why are you in here? Did you have a bad dream?" 



River shakes her head once, studying his face as if she's never seen it before. "He calls. She comes." 

Calls? _A girl running, her dark hair streaming behind. He was chasing her, running through endless hallways that began as carpet but changed to metal beneath his feet. She was too far ahead to catch but close enough to tease. He knew he couldn't let her go, reaching for her as his feet pounded along the corridors..._ The piece of fever dream holds the confused taste of muddled memory. 

"Poor Simon," River exhales, her fingers nudging a lock of wet hair off his hot forehead. "Burning like a sun... The dreams will try and drown you. Tricky dreams that wrap their razor claws around your heart. Move too fast and they cut you to pieces." 

Her last sentence is forceful, emphatic. Simon struggles to find its meaning but can't come up with the message she seems to be trying to impart. His attention fragments, skipping and jumping and returning again and again to flashes of that slim figure always just out of reach. And the sick feeling nestling itself in his stomach, growing stronger with each glimpse of the image. 

Couldn't let her go... 

"What time is it?" he asks, mostly to distract himself. And because it seems like the question to ask. But as he says it he realizes that there _are_ things, things he needs to be doing. He should check on the captain, on Book. And River is probably due for another dose of medication. He just needs to pull his thoughts together, to focus and get up... In his effort to twist into a sitting position, he glances at his watch. Though the lines refuse to stop their squiggling, his brain fills in that it's either just after three or a quarter past one. Either way, too early for anyone else to be up and appreciative of medical attention. 

"Sun's gone down, Simon," River says, nodding. She sits back on her heels, watching him. It seems like she's always watching him, those dark eyes boring a hole through his skull, his back. Like she never takes her eyes off of him, even when she's not even in the same room. 

_Flash of bare ankle glinting white on the edge of the shadows, skirt as black as the darkness that swirls back to hide it from view..._

Simon gives up on sitting and lays back against the thin pillow, exhausted. The pictures flash past his eyes, along with that hollow, desperate feeling of loss. 

_I'll be your bounty, Jubal Early._

The words had hit him hard, icy dread draining from his head down. He barely felt the bullet hit him moments later, his system still in shock from that first punch. 

_She was on his ship, already gone. And the bounty hunter was leaving, too, going to claim his prize. If only he could keep him from leaving, keep him from the shuttle. He could talk to her, convince her to come back. Promise her that the others hadn't meant what they said. Promise that they would find somewhere else to go._

_Beg to go with her._

His face is wet. River touches two fingers lightly to his lips. "Shhh... She doesn't go with." 

_I'll be your bounty..._

"But..." 

She shakes her head, a rare patient smile softening her mouth, her eyes. She is beautiful, glowing above him like a goddess. He wonders what her fingerprints would taste like. 

Wonders what...? 

"She saves them... Plans running like formulas behind her eyelids, each piece moving in its appointed way. Except one, a knight trying to jump out of turn." Her look turns chastising, and suddenly he's nine years old again and in trouble for the kitten he'd sneaked into the house. He'd managed to keep it hidden for nearly three days, a surprise birthday present for River. They would keep it in her room - he'd already figured it out - shuttling it back and forth between them in the event of a parental visit. Bribe the servants, so no one would hear about it. Their secret. 

"Almost forfeits the game, but she saves them all. Even the errant knight." 

She looks pleased with herself, and he has no reason to argue. He's still not entirely clear on the sequence of events; there hasn't been time to hear the whole story from her yet. But she'd managed to lead the crew to complete her plan, that much he'd gathered from a few stray comments during his self-assisted surgery. Not that he can recall much from that hazy, pain-blurred experience. 

Though he thinks Zoe might have been enjoying herself. 

Simon rubs his stinging eyes with a heavy hand. It falls against his chest; she picks it up, cupping both of hers around it. She studies it closely, fascinated by the way his fingers curl over hers. He wonders what it is she sees. River brings his hand up to press the palm against her cheek, meeting his eyes. "Still here," she tells him. 

Her face is cool and smooth, like her hands. _Hands brushing skin, breasts, hipbones..._ Simon blinks, trying to pull his hand away. He tugs without strength; she holds him there, not breaking the eye contact. He feels his face grow even warmer, the flush burning through to the roots of his hair. He clears his throat, a harsh, rough sound. "River..." 

Finally she lets his hand fall to the bedsheets. 'Hot," she tells him. "Burning." Her eyes dip away from him, then back. Simon finds he can not take his own eyes off her, as if he's been enchanted. Watching, waiting, motionless. She pulls aside the rumpled sheet covering him. The cooler air that brushes his skin breaks the spell, and he closes his eyes. 

But all too soon the heat is back, simmering up from inside of him. 

And then she brings the coolness again. River stretches her body over his, a barely-there pressure of delicious relief. She is careful not to touch his injury, both of her thin dancer's legs covering the length of one of his. Her head rests on his bare chest, hair scratching the underside of his chin. Arm on top of arm, their fingers interlaced. 

Simon opens his eyes and stares blearily at where he knows the ceiling is supposed to be. 

"River..." he tries again, not sure what it is he wants to say after those two syllables. Not sure if he wants to push her away or pull her closer. 

_I'll be your bounty..._

Four words, and she was already gone. Out of his reach, running forever ahead of him to places he could never follow. The blood rushing in his ears, her voice echoing in his head, and all he could see was Early leaving with her. 

Simon can feel her breath whispering against his skin, her small chest rising and falling against him. His arms come up on their own to wrap tightly around her. Maybe, if he holds her close enough, she will never leave him. No one will ever take her away again. 

Sleep creeps back, almost overtaking him before he realizes it. Simon fights to stay awake, suddenly afraid that she won't be there when he wakes up. Maybe, he thinks, this is just another fever dream. He'll awaken in the infirmary, and the captain will be there to tell him she'd gone after all. 

River's bare toes brush his, sending a tingling shock through his overly-sensitive skin. She shifts in his arms, her head tipped back so that her lips tickle the base of his collarbone when she speaks. 

"She might be too far away for him to catch, Simon." 

His stomach lurches; the girl disappears into the shadows. She can't be gone, can't leave him. They belong together. He gave up everything he had to keep them together. If she is lost then so is he. His arms tighten further around her small body. 

"Crushing, burning love," River says, her voice somewhat breathless. It takes a minute for the meaning of the words to filter through his head; when it does, he relaxes his hold a little. Still, he can't bring himself to let go of her completely. Not yet. 

"You should go back to bed," he murmurs into her hair, an absurdity since he still holds her close. His bottom lip grazes the skin of her forehead where it meets her hairline, and a vertigo wave splashes over him. For a moment he thinks he might be falling. 

Her voice grounds him again, a solid weight between her and the mattress. "The bugs devour from the inside, bringing heat and clouds." Simon sucks in a breath at the unexpected sensation of her soft tongue flicking out to wet his skin. "I can taste them," she says with a shiver. "Like falling." 

He can't think, can't move. Exhaustion reaches for him with its plucking fingers, trying to pull him into its depths. But this is important. There are so many things left unsaid, even he does not know all of them. Just the nagging feeling that there is so much he must do before surrendering to sleep. 

Simon whispers his sister's name in the darkness. 

"Shhh, _ge ge_..." She lifts her head off his chest, just enough height for their eyes to meet. "She's still here..." 

end 

#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Nicole Clevenger


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